


The Bookstore One

by orphan_account



Category: Bandom, Fall Out Boy
Genre: Alternate Universe - Bookstore, Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-10
Updated: 2014-01-10
Packaged: 2018-01-08 04:34:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,154
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1128421
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Patrick Stump and Joe Trohman work at Barnes and Noble. Pete Wentz of Arma Angelus happens to be a customer.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Bookstore One

**Author's Note:**

> I'm trying to get over a bout of writer's block and so I wrote this short little thing for fun. I don't think I'll expand on it.

Working at Barnes and Noble is probably the best job Patrick’s ever had--granted he can only weigh it against the shitty cashier job he had at Hardee’s for like, six months. The job description doesn’t require much from him, the hours and pay are good, and he gets to hang out with Joe all day if they have the same work shift. Joe is pretty much the only reason Patrick even got hired at the bookstore after putting in a good word to his manager, for which Patrick is eternally grateful. Patrick’s mom is pretty thrilled too; a summer job means Patrick will be doing productive things with his free time instead of sitting on the couch watching The Price is Right reruns and eating whatever he can find in the fridge that doesn’t require cooking. 

He’s stacking books in the poetry section when Joe quickly strides up to him and grabs his arm before tugging him to the end of the non-fiction shelf. 

“There’s the guy I was telling you about.” Joe whispers, pointing in the direction of the fiction literature books. Patrick peers around the shelf. The guy is fixed intently on the titles on the shelf, running his index finger over the spines of the book and mouthing something to himself. He’s dressed in tight jeans and a black polo shirt that shows off the tattoos that decorate his arms. His hair is slick (obviously straightened to anyone who knows anything about hair styling, which Patrick does not) and falls forward over his face. 

“He’s the guy from Arma Angelus.” Joe continues. 

“Really?” Patrick asks incredulously. Arma Angelus is legendary in the Chicago hardcore scene. Patrick’s never seen them live, unfortunately, but anyone and everyone in the scene knows about them. 

Their manager lurks around the shelves where Patrick is stocking and he and Joe quickly separate and continue their work. Patrick’s stocking a new print version of Walt Whitman’s poetry when the Arma guy hesitantly approaches him. Patrick glances up and the guy flashes him a quick smile before looking through the poetry titles. He’s standing uncomfortably close, but it gives Patrick a chance to get a better look at him. His eyes are a beautiful light brown color and his smile makes Patrick’s knees go weak for a second. Patrick has to make himself look away before he creeps the dude out. 

Arma dude stands there for another minute before walking off to look at another shelf. Patrick lets out a breath he didn’t realize he’d been holding and definitely doesn’t stare after him. 

\--

The next week, Arma dude comes back into the store. Patrick’s working the check-out counter and notices him walk in and make a beeline for the magazine racks. Joe and Patrick share a glance and Patrick returns his focus on the customer in front of him. 

Arma dude stands in the check-out line about five minutes later and Joe rings up his purchase of Rolling Stone and SPIN. 

“You’re in Arma Angelus, aren’t you?” Joe asks casually as he bags the magazines. The guys gets the biggest smile on his face and nods fervently. 

“Yeah, dude! I’m Pete. That’s so weird that you know that!” He shakes Joe’s hand and they talk for a little bit longer before Arma dude--Pete--leaves, giving Patrick a little smile before heading out. 

During their break, Joe and Patrick head outside so Joe can smoke and Patrick can drink his coffee. 

“There’s an Arma house show this Saturday. You in?” Joe asks.

“Sure.”

\--

The Arma Angelus house show goes much better than anyone expected. The set goes well and the cops don’t show up. Patrick’s not usually a “house party” kind of guy, but even he’s enjoying himself, holding a can of lukewarm Coke and nodding along to the music next to Joe. 

The next band is setting up to perform when Pete makes his way over to where Patrick and Joe are standing. Patrick’s palms start to feel sweaty and he fidgets nervously. 

“Hey, I’m glad you could make it!” Pete greets, grinning widely before wiping the sweat from his face with a towel. 

“Wouldn’t have missed it, dude.” Joe says. Patrick stares intently down at the opening of his soda can when Joe introduces him. “Pete, this is Patrick. He works at the bookstore too.” 

Pete smiles. “Yeah, I’ve seen him around there,” he responds, not looking away from Patrick. He sticks out his hand to shake Patrick’s and Patrick quickly wipes his palm against his jeans. 

“You guys were really great.” Patrick rushes out.

“You really think so?” Pete asks. 

Patrick nods. Joe looks back and forth between the two and raises his eyebrows so high that Patrick fears they might get lost in his hair. 

“Okay,” Joe draws out, “I’m going out for a smoke.” Joe smiles at Patrick and gives them the double guns hand motion before disappearing in the crowd. 

“Did you want a drink?” Pete asks. Patrick holds up his can of soda and shakes his head.

“I’m good. But thanks anyway.” They stand awkwardly and Patrick wishes that Joe would have stayed with them. He’s much better at making conversation. Patrick expects Pete to leave him alone and mingle with other people, but Pete leans up against the wall next to Patrick and picks at a frayed part of his jeans. 

“So, you had nothing better to do than come see some shitty band play a house show?” Pete asks. He’s smiling at Patrick and Patrick finds it hard for his brain to form coherent thoughts. 

“Uh, yeah, no. I don’t really do much. Joe’s pretty much my only social connection.” 

“Well, maybe I could get your number? You know, if you want to know about shows or hang out or whatever.” Pete mumbles. 

Patrick blinks and nods. “Oh, yeah, sure. I don’t have anything to write it down with--” Pete pulls a black sharpie from his back pocket and pulls off the cap with his teeth before holding it to his arm and nodding at Patrick to continue. Pete writes Patrick’s number sloppily over the inside of his arm, caps the sharpie, and blows on the ink. 

Joe comes back in and notices the familiar digits on Pete’s arm. He glances at Patrick who smiles at his friend and then at Pete. Pete grins and claps a hand on Joe’s shoulder. 

“I’ll see you guys later,” he gives one last charming grin to Patrick before squeezing his way through the crowd towards the front of the stage to watch the band that’s about to perform. 

Joe stares at Patrick who is grinning bashfully and looking down at his shoes. When he looks up, Joe just smiles and shakes his head. 

“What?” Patrick asks. 

“Nothing, nothing. Just...good for you, man.” Joe slaps Patrick’s back and they both return their gazes to the stage when the drummer counts off.


End file.
